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  If Ashley was still up, she wasn't making a sound.

  Of course, it was close to midnight, and after the trip from Virginia, the doctor's appointment, the lab tests and the general stress of the past two days, she was no doubt exhausted. And probably asleep.

  Well, hopefully.

  Brayden hated to admit it even to himself, but one of the reasons he was so late getting home was that he preferred not to see her. That's why he'd stayed away most of the night before and why he was late again tonight.

  And that created a whole new round of guilt for him.

  As if he needed more.

  He'd asked so much of her, and she'd come through for Colton. For him. Somehow, Ashley had been able to put aside their past to give him the most incredible gift: a chance for his son to get well.

  Yet, he wasn't anxious to face her.

  That couldn't go on much longer. Eventually, they had to talk. About the insemination. About the upcoming pregnancy. About the logistics of how all of this would work. They had to discuss what would happen once she became pregnant. Would she stay in San Antonio or return to her self-made sanctuary in Virginia?

  Brayden refused to change that once to an if.

  Ashley would become pregnant.

  And the new baby's bone marrow would be a match for Colton. He'd have two healthy children to love and raise.

  That was the only scenario he could accept.

  He leaned against the wall and listened for several moments but only heard the hum of the fridge in the adjoining kitchen and the rhythmic swings of the pendulum in the grandfather clock. Certain that he could make a clean escape to his bedroom, he crossed the room to the hall.

  And came face-to-face with a baseball bat.

  He moved out of instinct, latching onto the bat before it could be used to assault him. In the same motion, he grabbed the person's wrist.

  His brain registered that it was probably Ashley. Probably. But in the back of his mind, there was a concern that it might be an intruder.

  "It's me," he managed to say. "It's Brayden."

  He heard her then. Definitely Ashley. She made a sound of surprise, of recognition, of relief, but unfortunately her body was a couple of steps ahead of that sound. She'd already started toward him, and it was Brayden who stopped her forward progression.

  Ashley rammed into him, off-balancing them both. And they went down to the floor. He managed to turn them at the last possible second so that he took the brunt of the fall. Chivalrous, yes, but not very bright since his head banged the corner of the clock.

  Brayden could have sworn he saw stars.

  But that wasn't all his chivalrous act had done. No such luck. Ashley landed on top of him. Her breasts against his chest. And their lower bodies aligned in the worst way possible. If it hadn't been for their clothes, they might have had accidental sex.

  "It's me," he repeated. Heaven knows why. Ashley obviously knew that by now.

  She looked down at him, her breath gusting and hitting him in the face. She smelled like mint toothpaste.

  And sex.

  Brayden quickly pushed aside that thought. It probably had something to do with the fact that earlier in the evening he'd spent some time in the collection room at the clinic donating his contribution for the artificial insemination. Difficult not to think of sex after that.

  "I thought it was someone breaking in," she said, climbing off him. Not easily, either. There was a lot of slippery sliding contact that reminded Brayden he was a man. And that she was a woman.

  She rolled to the side, flopped onto her back and lay there, most likely so she could catch her breath. Brayden tried to do the same.

  "I didn't hear the garage door open so I didn't think it was you," she explained.

  "I figured the garage door would wake you up so I parked in the drive and came in through the back."

  More of those gusty breaths punctuated by some mumbling. "I was already awake."

  "Obviously." He forced himself to get up and then offered her a hand. Ashley latched onto him, and he helped her to her feet. "Are you hurt?" he asked.

  "No. How about you?"

  He wouldn't dare mention the stars whirling around his head or the bruise he'd almost certainly have on his butt. "I'll live."

  Brayden reached over and turned on the light. A huge mistake. Major. Ashley might not have been sleeping when he arrived, but she was definitely ready for bed.

  She wore pajamas. Not some baggy, formless outfit, but Christmas-red silk pj's that clung to just about every inch of her. The top was short. Cropped. And it cropped just enough to expose about an inch or so of her bare stomach.

  No bra.

  How did he know that?

  Because the top was also snug, and he could see the exact shape of her breasts. Small. Firm, from the looks of them. And for reasons Brayden didn't want to explore, he looked.

  With that look, he felt his body make all kinds of suggestions. Bad suggestions. Suggestions he had no intention of acting on. Brayden forced his attention from her breasts to her face.

  Not a great idea, either.

  Her hair was tousled, framing her face. Emphasizing that naked mouth and her eyes. It was a reminder that he'd never seen her without her makeup in her pj's.

  It didn't seem as if it was something he should be seeing now, either.

  "Uh, how was Colton?" Ashley asked, licking her lips. Not a come-on kind of lick either. A fidgety kind of lick. She was nervous.

  Welcome to the club.

  Brayden was glad she came up with a suitable subject. Because raunchy thoughts aside, he was drawing a blank in the particular area of where they should go from here.

  "He's better. He said to tell you hello. Oh, and he also said I should remind you about the snow thing." He paused, shaking his head. "What's that about anyway?"

  "He wants snow for Christmas. I told him I'd see what I could do." She folded her arms over her chest. Which meant she probably knew he'd been gawking at her breasts.

  Great. Just great.

  In addition to thinking he was naval lint, now she probably thought he was a pervert.

  She checked the clock. "Colton was up late, huh? Is that usual for him?"

  "It wasn't that late. Not really. I dropped by his room around nine. Tucked him in. Kissed him good-night. And then I had to go to the clinic where the insemination will be done. That's why I'm just now getting home."

  That, and the fact that he'd circled the block for the past forty-five minutes.

  "Is there a problem at the clinic?" Ashley asked, some alarm in her eyes.

  He shook his head. "The doctor met me after hours so I could do some paperwork. Plus, I needed to use the collection room," he added, after clearing his throat.

  Brayden saw the moment his meaning registered. "Oh. Got it." She actually blushed, shuffled her feet, licked her lips and generally looked as uncomfortable as he felt. "No news on the tests I took earlier?"

  "Nothing yet, but the doctor put a rush on them so we should know something before morning."

  "A rush?" she repeated.

  "Yes. Because he was concerned that we might miss your ovulation. Which would mean waiting another month. Anyway, I told the lab to call though as soon as they had results. So, if you hear the phone, that's probably who it'll be. Once we know when you'll be ovulating, then we can schedule the insemination."

  Of course, they'd have to verify that she was a suitable candidate for insemination first, but Brayden was hoping they'd get past that hurdle without any problems. That's why he'd gone ahead with the collection so they would be prepared.

  Ashley slid her fingers through her hair, ruffling it, and hiking up her top in the process so he could see even more of her stomach. Not that he wanted to see more. When her hair fell back in place, it somehow managed to look even hotter than it had before.

  And that was Brayden's cue to head to bed.

  If her mussed hair and bare stomach were making him have dirty thoughts, then he d
idn't need to be in the general vicinity of her.

  It was probably just adrenaline or fatigue. Or the fact that his body was on alert because of his trip to the collection room.

  "Collection room?" Ashley mumbled under her breath, and Brayden thought maybe he'd said that last part aloud. It gave him a moment of panic. But apparently he'd said aloud no such thing because Ashley didn't looked astonished, only a little queasy.

  "Are you all right?" he asked.

  "Collection room," she repeated. "Insemination. Sorry, but it all has sort of an ick factor to it."

  Okay. That helped with the raunchy thoughts, but it sent his stomach into a tailspin. "You haven't changed your mind about doing this?"

  "No. Oh, no. Of course not. It's just…" She made a circular motion with her fingers as if she were trying to figure out how to explain what was on her mind. "The thought of it is a little, well, icky." Another ruffling of her hair. "I'm not making any sense."

  "You are. I understand. There's nothing natural about it." And he should know. He was the one who'd been in that collection room.

  Even though there was something about this, about Ashley, that felt natural.

  Not in a comforting sort of way, either.

  Brayden hitched his thumb toward his room, and he almost managed to say a good-night. Almost. But other than the lustful thoughts about her stomach, mouth and hair, he had one other thing on his mind.

  "I haven't thanked you—"

  "Don't," Ashley interrupted, holding up her hand like a traffic cop. "It only makes me feel guilty."

  That was his line, and he was a little surprised to hear it coming from her. "Why does my thanking you make you feel guilty?"

  But Brayden immediately winced at the question. Oh, man. Why had he asked that? He hoped this didn't turn into a discussion about Dana.

  "Because I keep cursing you for bringing me into this," she explained. "I hate having so many changes, so many uncertainties in my life. And yet I know if our situations were reversed, I would have done the same thing. I would have come to you for help."

  It was almost a truce. Except it didn't feel very peaceful. The old issues were still there.

  Man, were they ever.

  They hadn't forgiven each other. They'd simply put those old issues on hold to do what they had to do.

  Since the silence between them quickly became awkward, Brayden was actually thankful when the phone rang. He crossed the room and snatched it up. It was Dr. Underwood, the physician who'd be performing the insemination. When the doctor asked to speak to Ashley, Brayden realized her test results were probably in.

  It was time to hold his breath.

  Brayden handed her the phone and listened to Ashley's monosyllabic responses.

  Yes. Yes. Sure.

  What she didn't do was give anything away with her expression. They'd come to that first hurdle, and now he was praying they'd make it across.

  "I see," she said to the doctor. "What does that mean exactly?"

  Still, her expression revealed nothing.

  Okay, so he hadn't intended to play this what if game, but her blank expression did it. Brayden couldn't help but wonder what he was going to do if for some reason Ashley couldn't be inseminated.

  She finally said a goodbye, hung up and turned to him. "Everything is okay," she relayed.

  Brayden released the breath he'd been holding.

  "According to the tests, I'm healthy and shouldn't have any problems conceiving. In fact, I'll be ovulating day after tomorrow."

  "That soon." It was great news.

  A little overwhelming.

  But still great news.

  "That soon," she repeated, sounding overwhelmed, as well. "The doctor said I'll need to have the insemination procedure done twice. Once at the onset of ovulation, and then it'll be repeated in twenty-four hours to increase the chances of success."

  And success was what this was all about, Brayden reminded himself. Not the thick-as-lead tension simmering between Ashley and him.

  "Three more days," she mumbled. "And we'll be finished with the insemination part."

  Not much enthusiasm. But he hadn't expected it. "So you'll stay here until then? I mean, I want you to stay here until then. Because it'd probably be easier than you flying back and forth to Virginia."

  And he was babbling like an idiot.

  The corner of her mouth lifted a fraction. "Don't worry, Brayden. I'm as uneasy about this as you are." Her mouth slid right back into a somber line. "I do have some work that needs to be done on a case, but I can do that via computer, I guess. And then I can be home by the weekend."

  Rather than risk more babbling, he just nodded.

  More silence. More awkwardness. Until finally Ashley moved. "I'll see you in the morning."

  Yes. She would. In fact, they'd be seeing each other for at least three more mornings. And perhaps even some mornings after that if she decided to stay until they had the results of the pregnancy test.

  Somehow, he'd have to make himself immune to her choice of sleepwear, or the next three mornings would be hell.

  Brayden waited until he heard her close the guest-room door before he went to his own room. The bone-weary fatigue was to the point where he had to get some sleep, or he wouldn't be able to function. He stripped off his shoulder holster, shirt and pants, and then turned on the CD player next to the bed.

  He kept the volume low, barely loud enough for him to hear Bruce Springsteen belt out a few lines of "I'm on Fire." Since that was a little too close to music imitating life Brayden reached for the button to skip that particular song.

  Car lights swept past his window.

  A late-night vehicle wasn't a complete anomaly in his neighborhood since some of the people on the block did shift work, but the fact that it seemed to be moving so slowly caused Brayden to go to the window. He lifted the curtain a fraction and looked out.

  It was a dark van.

  Very similar to one that had been in the hospital parking lot earlier that day.

  The one that had frightened Ashley.

  He drew his weapon. And watched.

  Since it was crawling at a snail's pace, Brayden waited until it crossed directly under the streetlight, and he saw the numbers on the license plate. He jotted them down, and without taking his attention off the vehicle, he called headquarters and asked one of the detectives to run the plates.

  "Call me back as soon as you have something," Brayden instructed.

  He hung up and continued to watch until the van slipped out of sight. Still, Brayden didn't relax. There was something about the vehicle that sent his body on full alert.

  His vigilance paid off because several minutes later, he saw the lights again.

  It was the same van.

  The adrenaline pumped through him. Preparing him, in case there was a fight.

  Was this the stalker who'd been after Ashley? He'd taken precautions, yes, but a lot of people had to know she was back in town. It was impossible to keep something like that a secret.

  Again, the van cruised out of sight, and Brayden watched until the taillight faded from view. He waited. But it didn't return for a third round.

  When the phone rang, he snatched it up so it wouldn't wake Ashley. "It's a rental," the officer relayed. "Registered to a business near the airport."

  "By any chance was Hyatt Chapman the person who rented it?" Brayden asked, hoping he was wrong.

  Hyatt Chapman, the man who'd escaped from jail the night that Dana was killed. And Hyatt was their prime suspect not only for Dana's murder but also for stalking Ashley.

  "No. It's a guy named Jerome Knollings," the officer informed him. "No priors. But nothing else for that matter. He's too clean, if you know what I mean."

  Brayden did. It could be an alias. Which meant it could be Hyatt or his brother Trevor.

  And that wasn't good.

  "Want me to send a unit out to your place?" the officer asked.

  "No. Not yet, anyway. Run a thorou
gh check on this Jerome Knollings. I also want to step up surveillance of the neighborhood. If anyone sees this vehicle or any vehicle registered to Knollings in the vicinity, I want it pulled over immediately."

  Brayden hung up, knowing his fellow cops would do their best to keep Ashley safe. But he only hoped it was enough. Along with his own precautions, it had to be enough.

  Because he couldn't fail. Not this time. Not the way he'd failed Dana. He had to keep Ashley safe. Because if he didn't, he'd lose not only her but his son.

  Chapter Five

  Ashley tapped on his bedroom door. "Brayden?" she softly called out.

  Nothing. Well, no vocal response anyway, but she was certain she'd heard him moving around in there.

  Since the fax she'd just taken from his machine in the kitchen was marked urgent, she tapped again and then did a full knock. "Brayden?"

  Still nothing.

  She put her ear to the door, listening for the shower. No sound of running water. But she did hear something. Something she didn't distinguish as footsteps on carpet until it was a second too late.

  Brayden jerked open the door while she still had her ear pressed to it.

  Ashley dropped back a step and went right into her explanation, or rather that's what she tried to do. However, she got distracted before the first words made it out of her mouth.

  Oh, mercy.

  Brayden was practically naked. Or maybe it just seemed that way because the naked parts were far more eye-catching than the covered parts. In this case, the cover was a pair of loose gray shorts that dipped below his navel. Well below it.

  No shirt. In fact, nothing other than those shorts to obstruct her view.

  A view she shouldn't be having.

  That didn't stop her from looking, though.

  All those firm flexing muscles and tan skin. Not a perfect body like some airbrushed model. More interesting than that. From the light sprinkling of bronze-colored chest hair to the faint scar on his left forearm.

  Definitely interesting.

  In the adjoining sitting room were a treadmill and some weights. Judging from the sweat on his forehead and chest, he'd been working out. Judging from his toned pecs and abs, he worked out often.

  And judging from her immediate reaction—the flutter of her pulse, the rushed heartbeat and the warm sensation trickling through her—her own body appreciated the effects.